Idir Aisling
by Rhanon Brodie
Summary: Ever hovered between a dream and waking? The morning after the night before; follows 'Up with the Kettle'. Murphy / OC, M for a reason


In the first moments of waking, he was content to watch her sleep. Her breath was soft, stirring the strands of hair that fell across her cheek and curled on Murphy's pillow. He laid on his side, facing her, his back to Connor – he could hear his brother's snoring. As the sun crept higher outside the shadows inside the loft lifted and shifted Wren's delicate features to pale porcelain like one of Ma's dolls back home. His gaze travelled from her small nose and lush, blushing mouth, to her throat, her shoulder, and the crook of her bent elbow. Every curve and angle of her seemed to reel him in. Soon enough his finger brushed the hair back from the freckled slope of her shoulder and Murphy leaned up and over her, and touched his lips to her skin. She tasted like salt and lavender.

She smiled in her sleep, lost in a dream, and Murphy glanced up before moving his mouth down over her collarbone. Under the warmth of the blankets and their bodies her skin was damp and tasted sweeter. He wasn't sure if he nudged her to roll onto her back or if she pulled him with her. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as his tongue drew a wet, warm line from the point of her collarbone to almost the centre of her breast. Murphy stopped again and looked up to her face.

"Don't stop," she murmured. It was almost soundless, her lips barely moving, but her meaning was clear as her hips pressed up against his.

Murphy chuckled gently and licked her nipple, his tongue flashing over the peak. Drawing back, he blew a stream of air across the hardened tip, watching as it tightened even more.

Her response was a breathy moan, languid, and still her eyes remained closed. But her legs – her legs fell open and she stretched beneath him, pressing her hips up into his growing erection. He groaned against her, rolling his head in her grip, sighing as her fingers raked through his hair.

He mouthed her nipple, sucking sharply until she tugged him away and pulled his mouth to hers. Between them, her hand slid down his chest and grasped the base of his cock. With a harsh gasp, he broke their lips apart and arched into her, whimpering as her thumb swiped over the smooth slickness that pulsed from his shaft in anticipation. The speed of his blood rushing to his erection made his toes curl, made him pant as he hovered over her, until he couldn't wait any longer. His hand closed over hers, stroking their fingers along his length. Together, they placed him at her tight hole; he could feel how ready she was. They kissed again as he gently pushed against her and pulled back, her muscles grasping at him with every pass.

Suddenly, she engulfed him – hands, lips, and pussy. Her hips rolled up and in one shot he sank as deep as possible. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted with a breathy moan. There was no use in waiting – her hips were rolling and she was tight, clasping…

"Fucking pair-fect," Murphy purred. He dug his toes into the mattress and hovered on his knees as his hands clutched her hips.

She breathed deeply. Arching into him, she rocked her hips roughly, but purposefully. Slowly. She wanted Murphy to _fuck_ her, hard and slow and sweating. Up on one arm, she hooked a leg behind his ass and slowly moved _on_ him, _over_ him. She owned him as she lay beneath him and the clarity of the moment melted into his brain with every whimper that floated around him.

He changed his rhythm and came up under her, pressing into her and upwards. He nestled his forehead against her chest and his breath burned her as he panted. He was close. He couldn't believe how fast it had approached, but she was too hot, too tight, too…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Murphy grunted, his hips snapping as he cursed. "Ah!" A low groan followed. He tensed, coming in a torrent, stars bursting behind his eyelids, Wren grasping at him.

Wren sighing at him. Murphy cringed, the rush of his orgasm still fizzling under his skin, and he raised his head, panting. Wren had been close, a fact he had been _very_ aware of, and he was currently spent. "Sorry," he rasped, pecking her on the nose with a frown. He wiggled his hips.

She closed her eyes and smiled, soft and slow. "It's okay," she reassured, gently combing through the hair on the back of his head. She pressed her lips against his. "Can I go back to sleep now?" she murmured.

Murphy chuckled softly and trailed his lips to her ear. "Was I keeping you awake?" he purred softly.

"Hmmm," Wren nodded. Her next sigh was bereft as Murphy gently disengaged and hovered between her thighs. "I was dreaming," she explained softly.

He smiled down at her. "Bout' what?"

"Th'ocean," she mumbled, turning her faced into the pillow. "You. Me." Her smile was tired and beautiful.

Murphy smoothed her hair from her face before kissing the corner of her mouth. "Sweet dreams, then," he offered, gently crawling off of her. "I'll be back in a bit." He didn't need to go to work – it was his day off – but he did need coffee. His gaze cut to the other mattress where Connor still snored. Wren muttered something and turned over, burrowing further into Murphy's blankets.

The morning was starting out like the sunrise – warm, bright, and beautiful.

She was somewhere between sleep and waking. The scent of Murphy's skin, and the warmth and weight of him still lingered. She remembered his breath and the way he panted as he pushed inside…oh…and the wonderful fullness of him, hard and hot…

Her hands slid over her breasts, the very tips hard against her palms. Her thighs pressed together and her feet twisted in the sheets. God, Murphy had felt good. Her hands traced her hips in the same path his had, gliding along naked skin. Her fingertips skated along her ribs, cupping her breasts and finally twisted her nipples firmly.

A lusty moan floated up from Murphy's bed, yanking Connor from his sleep. He burrowed out from his nest of blankets and blinked bleary eyes at Murphy's mattress. Surely they weren't going at it _again_. Hadn't Murphy left? Connor rubbed his eyes and focused on his brother's bed. The only occupant was Wren, and her back was arched, knees bent, one hand gliding down between…

"Hail Mary, full of grace," Conner whimpered. His eyes widened as Wren's hand moved further between her thighs. Murphy would be at least ten minutes – his absence told Connor that his twin had left to find coffee. Should he…make some sort of noise? Wake her up? Maybe he should just turn over and – and _what_? _Pretend_ to be asleep? Another low moan rose from Murphy's bed and Connor's eyes swept her prone form, watching it arch again and make the sheet slip down to her hips. Her other hand flitted to her breast and took with it Connor's gaze. Shifting, he bit his lip as his cock began to ache and stir at the sight of her rosy brown nipples. A quick glance further north confirmed that she was still asleep. Either that, or she was completely unaware of the face that Connor was right across from her, less than five feet away, and wide awake.

Murphy had left her wet and wanting, her orgasm so close, right on the tip of her tongue. The fingers on her left hand slicked up and down her hot sex, circling the hard button of her clit and plunging back down inside. It wasn't the same – wasn't hot and full to the brim like Murphy's cock – but all she needed was one twist of her fingers deep inside…

"Fuuuuuck," she groaned, her torso jerkingt up off the bed. Gasping, she curled her fingers again, and then again, rolling and tapping the edge of her g-spot. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip and her nerves tingled, icy and hot all at once.

There may have been a _slight_ twinge of guilt in the pit of Connor's stomach, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Propped up on one elbow, his free hand crept down his hip bone and gave an experimental stroke of his half-hard length. He sucked a breath between his teeth to stifle the groan that threatened to escape. He shouldn't be doing this, he thought on the down-stroke. But there was something so damn…_dirty_ about it. Up-stroke. _Hail Mary full of grace_. He wasn't even attracted to her – not _that_ way. Not really. She was _Murphy's_ girl. She was off limits. She was –

"Ah…ah-oh! _Fuck_!" Wren grunted. God, she was going to come. The images of Murphy flashed through er brain. Above her and naked, below her, clothed and laughing as she tickled him, kisses, soft touches, harsh, dirty words, angry flared nostrils, frenzied movements. Bare, broad shoulders moving back and forth above her.

Connor's fist tightened and sped up as Wren's thighs shook and small, breathy whimpers engulfed him. He knew what she sounded like when she came – he'd heard it earlier that morning. At that time, he'd thought nothing of it. They were alone now – not together, but it suited him fine. In fact…Connor stroked faster, rolling his thumb over the slick head of his cock. An image of Pam flitted through his brain and he grasped it, stripped it, and put it between the sheets with Wren. Now _that_ would be hot – the two of them, petite, blonde Wren and leggy, tawny-haired Pam, going at it, all soft curves and breathy voices, pink parts wet and shiny…

Wren propped herself up with one hand and arched her hips up into her other hand, riding her fingers furiously as she barrelled down the rails to her release. Her head tipped back as her nipples tightened in the coolness of the loft and at the last moment she pressed her thumb down hard on her clit and jerked her fingers mercilessly. Her lips opened up, her thighs tensed and with a keening cry, she came wetly, gushing around her fingers.

Connor _heard_ it, her voice, and her finish gloriously wet as his balls erupted. He drew blood from his lip as he fought the urge to roar his completion. His heart hammered in his chest at a ridiculous speed and it was so loud, he was sure Wren would hear it. Aftershocks wracked his frame as he curled helplessly onto his side and gulped in breath after breath, as quietly as he could. His blood was pounding in his ears.

Her toes curled into the sheets and after another few moments of shaking and quivering, Wren collapsed with a sated sigh. Her legs pressed together, trapping her hand there, making her think of trapping Murphy's hand there, and with a grin she wiggled her fingers back and forth gently, mimicking Murphy's playful nature when she thought she was done and he knew she wasn't. She hummed lowly, turning her face into his pillow and letting her eyes drift open.

The sight of Connor's naked back made her almost choke on her breath. If anything, her thighs clamped harder as she tensed and she had to yank her hand from between them. Had he…had he heard her? She held her breath and stared, trying to see any sign that Connor was awake.

That was when the door burst open and Murphy strolled in, carrying a tray holding three Styrofoam cups in one hand and a non descript bag in the other. Wren yelped and dove beneath the sheets, her first instinct. Almost immediately she felt her cheeks flame. She heard Murphy shuffle around and set things on the table before the tread of his boots made their way across the loft. More rustling, and then the edge of the sheet was lifted to reveal Murphy crouching at the edge of his bed, a smirk on his face and a cigarette tucked into the corner of said smirk.

"Ye alright?" he asked slowly, trying to keep from laughing. Her reaction had been priceless and he cocked his head at her total lack of clothing. Removing the smoke from his lips he exhaled smoke through his nose and flicked his eyes up from Wren's damp thighs to her face, and the dazed eyes and flushed cheeks. "Whuterya doin', girl?" he murmured with a decidedly heated gaze. "Or what _were_ ya doin?" He chuckled again.

Wren's face flamed further – if possible – and she pressed it into the pillow once more, groaning. "I didn't…I mean I guess I forgot…" Murphy scowled a moment, genuinely confused, but then he watched Wren wave in the general direction of Connor's bed. "I didn't even think of him over there."

A bark of laughter rang sharply through the loft. "I should hope not, girl!" He smirked and took another drag of his cigarette before glancing back at Connor. He knew the fucker was awake, could tell by the slight hitch in his shoulder, but obviously Wren didn't know that.

Wren groaned and yanked the sheet back only wedge it under her chin. She met Murphy's blue gaze. "No, I mean…"

"I know what ye mean," he purred. "I'm just sorry I wasn't here to take in what I guess was a stellar solo performance."

Wren's teeth tugged at her bottom lip. "It was kinda…_explosive_," Wren explained softly.

Murphy dragged his fingertips over the soaked sheet and licked his lips. "Any chance there might be a second show later today?"

The heat in his stare made Wren squirm. "There may be a change in venue," Wren muttered, sitting up and glancing for her clothes.

Murphy was already one step ahead of her, finding her skirt and top where he'd draped them as best he could over the back of a kitchen chair. He handed them over and then headed back to the kitchen area, pulling out a coffee and prying the lid off to dump cream and sugar inside.

"D'ya work tonight, then?"

Wren nodded as she shimmied her skirt over her hips, casting a wary eye in Connor's direction. "It's Saturday. Busiest night of the week." She began digging through her purse as she spoke some more. "The tips are worth it, though. Especially if I'm going to have to replace underwear." Her tone was wry as she pulled the spare pair of panties from her bag and waved them at Murphy. "Told you I carried a spare." She set her purse aside and slipped the underwear into place.

"When are you off, then?"

"Three," she sighed. "But I'm off tomorrow. I'm planning on sleeping in, having a long, lazy breakfast…" she trailed off, looking at Murphy from under her lashes. "I seem to recall you offering me breakfast this morning…" she trailed off, cocking an eyebrow. She knew for certain that Murphy's idea of breakfast no doubt consisted of the take out coffee and whatever the bag contained – her money was on a Danish of some sort.

"I got…"

"Breakfast, Murphy," Wren interrupted, "consists of more than one food group. But I'll take the coffee." Her gaze flicked to the clock over the stove and her eyes widened. "Shit, is that the time?" It was close to eleven and she had a list of errands a mile long before she had to be at work by six. She took a big gulp of coffee and swept around the loft, locating her jacket and shoes. "I have to go."

Murphy frowned, but was secretly pleased at the reluctance in her voice. She wanted to leave about as much as he wanted her to. Pushing away from the counter where he was leaning, he caught her as she crossed the floor and gathered her up in his arms. "Can I come to the bar later?" He murmured, staring down intently into her eyes.

She shrugged in his embrace. "It's a free country," she answered vaguely.

Murphy rolled his eyes and tightened his embrace. "I don't want you going home alone that late at night,"

Wren smirked. "Who says I'll be alone?"

"Well, if you'll stop being so stubborn and let me pick you up, you won't be alone," Murphy growled with narrowed eyes.

"You can pick me up," Wren conceded. "But _you_," and she jabbed her pointer finger playfully into his chest, "are making breakfast."

The Irishman grinned and dipped his head, pressing his lips soundly to Wren's. "I'll make ye breakfast," he murmured across her mouth, "after I'm done makin' ye scream."


End file.
